


There Are No Heroes

by QuantumPsijic



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuantumPsijic/pseuds/QuantumPsijic
Summary: There is a darkness coming to Hyperion, with plans to sink its claws (and teeth) into the unsuspecting inhabitants of Helios.  Having been locked away for over a thousand years, and eager to reclaim the power stolen from it so many years ago, the creature sets its eyes on the corporation's infamous CEO.  As Jack faces a deadly power struggle against an ancient creature with a lust for blood and a taste for flesh, all of Hyperion feels the consequences.  It's a battle between monsters, with no hero in sight.-------------------------------------Set in an AU (in which Jack doesn't die) after Borderlands 2 and carrying into Tales.  Not sure where this is going yet, there may be some relationship tags moving down the line, but don't expect anything happy - it's not that kind of fic.





	1. The Creature

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, this is a return to writing for me after an extremely long time away. This started off as a Rhack fic but somehow I ended up with this lovely mess...
> 
> Anywho enjoy and please leave comments, I live for them.

A single Hyperion transport coasted silently through the empty space between Pandora and Helios; minutes away from reaching the infamous space station. The small ship was of an older make, soon due for retirement and to be replaced by a newer, sleeker model. In its prime the little shuttle would carry top executives from Helios, ferrying them to vacation spots or important off-station business meetings, even having the honor of transporting the legendary Handsome Jack on more than one occasion. Now, however, the tired vehicle only ever made quick trips to and from the surface of Pandora. It's once brilliant black and yellow paint now chipped, faded and littered with patched over bullet holes. Only low level employees, or those unlucky enough to piss of Hyperion's CEO in one of his more creative murderous moods, ever saw the inside of the shuttle these days. Rusty and worn, the transport had groaned and creaked when it struggled its way out of Pandora's atmosphere, barely able to escape the savage planet's pull, and now it valiantly chugged along as it made what would be it's final journey to the towering station. It's passengers anxiously awaiting their arrival...

Inside the shuttle, the pilot swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. He gripped the controls tightly in his hands, knuckles turning white as he tried to ignore the tears still streaming from his eyes and the sweat soaking through his clothes. The smell of drying piss and vomit rose from his lap and danced around his nose, his stomach churning each time the scent curled up inside his nostrils. He kept his eyes forward, aimed firmly at Helios. That was his way out, the light at the end of this ever darkening tunnel. If he could just hold on until they reached the dock, until the security team checked them in and saw...whatever this was...then it would stop. It would all stop.

He continued to focus on his prize, desperately trying to ignore the grotesque chewing and tearing sounds coming from the back, only made worse by the occasional groan of pleasure that interrupted them. He tried not to notice the blood smeared across the control panels or the remains of what had once been his co-pilot and best friend that sat to the right, just outside his field of vision. The body, if it could still be called that, had been torn and flayed apart, bits of flesh and bone flung across the cabin as that... _thing_....tore into it. All that remained in the seat next to the pilot was half a torso and what he thought was a leg, blood soaked clothing still clinging to what remained of the carcass. The pilot hadn't seen what happened to the others in the back of the cabin. No, he hadn't seen...but he had _heard._ The sounds of pain and fear interjected by cruel maniacal laughter, the sounds of bones being crushed and flesh being ripped apart, and then the worst of it; the silence.

He had been instructed to not interfere, to pilot the ship towards Helios and to stop for nothing. He had obeyed. Fear had taken hold of him. Deep fear. The kind of fear that soaks into your bones, that blinds you to anything but the terror coursing through your veins. He hadn't tried to help or stop the creature in the back from ripping through their bodies, he hadn't tried to sabotage the ship or divert their course. He did as he was told, in the hopes that the next screams he heard wouldn't be his own. Now, though, as the station drew closer guilt began to swarm around inside his belly. The realization of what a coward he was, still is, as he continued obediently towards Helios. There was no hope for him, he knew that, but the guards at the station...there was no way they would open that shuttle and not immediately eviscerate everything inside. Maybe they would open fire and riddle him and his cursed companion with bullet holes, or maybe they'd set fire to the shuttle and burn them both away, or better yet, maybe they'd blow the whole thing up leaving the two of them little more than ash scattered across open space. He found himself smiling at that last one.

“You doin' okay up there, slick?” The smooth dark voice pulled the pilot from his morose day dreaming. He didn't answer, couldn't answer. When the voice spoke again it was soft, just a whisper, and unnervingly close to the pilot's ear. “We're almost there, are you ready?”

The pilot didn't need to see the creature's face to know it was smiling. He nodded unconsciously, his mind barely keeping up with his body. The pilot released a heavy breath when the creature pulled away from his side.

“I'm about to make my big debut, slick.” The creature took in a deep breath and held it a second before releasing it all at once. “How do I look?” he asked in an eerily upbeat tone.

He didn't want to look. He really didn't, but he couldn't help it. Inside, his head he was screaming, 'NO! DON'T. TURN. AROUND!” but his body twisted in his seat anyway, pulled toward the creature as if on a string. He trembled at what he saw, breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him.

The cabin was coated in deep red; the blood of the passengers smeared and splattered over the walls, seats and floor. The bodies were completely unrecognizable as even human anymore, shreds of meat and organs littering the floor like discarded leftovers. In the center of all of it stood the creature. He was tall and lean with long legs, his face was all angles and sharp edges, and his skin pale but now with a rosy tint blooming from beneath the surface. His clothing was covered in blood and sinew, as were his long slender fingers and the edges of his mouth. He shot the pilot a toothy grin as he waited on the man's appraisal. When it was clear none was coming, he huffed in irritation and rolled his eyes as he approached the man.

“C'mon now, slick, this is my first appearance into civilized society in almost a millennia.” He slung his arm around pilot's shoulders; a severed leg was still clutched in his hand, part of the bone sticking out and marked with little notches from where the creature's teeth had picked it clean. “Wanna make a good first impression.” The creature smiled as he leaned in close enough to the pilot's face that he could smell the coppery stench of his breath. The pilot only gagged in response, making the creature sigh heavily. “Humans . . .” he muttered to himself as he left the pilot's side and took a seat in the back to wait for the shuttle to dock.

The last few minutes of the trip were blessedly quiet, allowing the pilot to remain focused on their arrival at Helios, and what we hoped would be a swift execution of both himself and the creature. He managed to communicate with the station during docking procedures, but only barely. Nothing but the minimum required words rising from his throat. Then finally, FINALLY, they were docked.

The creature smiled at the pilot and straightened the front of his shirt, “Show time, slick”, he said just as the doors to the cabin opened and two security officers poked their heads in.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” The creature greeted the two officers calmly, severed leg still in hand. “Just arriving from a little business trip on Pandora.”

The pilot watched in frozen awe as the officers took no notice to the horror show inside the cabin.

“Afternoon. This shuttle wasn't due back for another three days, there a reason you're back so early?” The officer asked.

The creature smiled in response, “Completed things a little faster than expected.” He chuckled slightly and moved closer to the officers. “Can't really blame me for wanting to get off that shit heap a little ahead of schedule, now can you?”

“No.” the officer knowingly grunted.

The pilot couldn't believe what was happening, how did they not see the blood, the bodies? Why weren't they firing every last ounce of ammo they had into this creature? Panic shot through the pilot's body, his heart about to beat out of his chest as he saw the officers turning to leave.

“Wait a minute.” One of them paused and gripped his rifle tightly. “What the hell is that?!” The officer pointed at the severed leg in the creature's hand, alarm clearly in his voice as he began to raise his weapon. The pilot nearly sighed in relief, hoping that this would finally bring an end to his torment.

“Oh this?” The creature lifted the leg in front of him, never breaking eye contact with the officer. “Just some barbecue skag I picked up on the surface.” He took a bite out of the leg, tearing through the muscle with ease, blood dripping down his chin. He swiped a thumb across his face to catch the sticky liquid and then licked it off with his tongue, a playful smile on his face. “It's actually quite good.”

“Oh, so it is” the officer relaxed almost immediately at the creature's words, lowering his weapon and wishing the creature a good rest of his day. The pilot's heart sank, all hope leaving him. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, of course the creature had planned for this. Whatever power the creature was wielding had worked. They had stared right into the mouth of hell, and hadn't even noticed.

“Thank you, officers.” He was about to step off the shuttle, when he paused as if he remembered something. “Actually, if you don't mind I'd like to stay here a minute . . .” He looked back at the pilot, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “. . . and finish my meal.” He winked at the pilot as he spoke, not even waiting for the officers reply before closing the doors.

 


	2. Mervin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you are a thousand year old creature that just arrived to his new life on Helios? You find a place to live, get some new clothes, and go job hunting of course! Oh and eat! Just make sure to put away your leftovers....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! Two chapter uploads at once! Let's hope I can keep up the pace. More blood and gore, casual mentioning of strangulation and eating people...so the usual for this fic so far.

Helios was nothing like the wastelands of Pandora; where the planet below had been a vast desert with sparse little make shift towns scattered about the surface, Helios was a bustling and lively city. On Pandora the creature could have easily paraded through any town blood soaked and smelling of death and no one would have batted an eye, hell people probably would have respected him more, but here on the space station walking through the busy halls covered in bits of human remains was probably more likely to get him thrown out an air lock than a pat on the back. The creature had used what powers he had to trick security at the docks into thinking he was a well dressed Hyperion employee, but that magic would only last so long and stretch so far. If his plan was going to work, he would need a more permanent solution, preferably one that didn't drain a good portion of his energy on a regular basis.

Once he had gotten himself past the watchful eyes of the security team, he let the glamour go and stuck to the shadows and less populated areas of the station. He knew little to nothing of Helios, or the Hyperion corporation outside of the propaganda posters and billboards scattered on the planet below. He knew they were powerful, had access to amazing tech and, most importantly, was as far away as he could currently get from the fucking dusty shit hole he had spent the better part of his lifetime on.

Memories of centuries spent in darkness, spent in anguish and solitude fueled the creature's anger as he stalked the unfamiliar halls of the station. He could feel his teeth grinding against each other and his fists clenching as he was taken back to the moment he was first sealed away. It wasn't the grueling fight, or the chains locked around his throat and limbs or even the humiliation of having his power stripped from his claws that caused the rage within him to come bubbling to the surface. It was the betrayal. The (actually literal, now that he thought about it) knife driven through his back by the one person, the only person, he should have been able to trust. His fingernails dug deep into the palms of his hands, blood welling up around them but doing little to ease the creature's fury. A low growl escaped his lips as he released a heavy breath. Dwelling on the past would get him no where. He needed to stay focused, keep his mind on his plans. Later, after the danger of being chained once again had passed, he could concentrate on revenge. It was a dish best served cold, was it not? Although, after a millennia, it probably had freezer burn.

The creature's thoughts were interrupted by a grumble that did not come from his throat. He placed a hand over this stomach and frowned. He was still hungry, even after finishing off those vault hunters and the Hyperion employees on that shuttle. He wanted to eat, but he needed to find a way to move about the station freely with out drawing suspicion. He stopped his wandering and scanned the area to get his bearings. He was in what appeared to be an older part of Helios. The yellow and black paint that accented everything on the station, was a little more faded and worn here. Clearly not an area considered worth the upkeep. It appeared to be residential, each door labeled with a last name and number. The creature thought a moment and grinned to himself. Perhaps he could kill (and eat?) two birds with one stone.

He continued down the hall, this time looking at each door and the names affixed to them, He avoided any doors that had two last names or had the word “family” after. Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed a second or third helping, but this wasn't some little town he planned on breezing through once he had gorged himself on the local fauna. He had _plans_. The kind that take time and effort. He didn't want to have to explain away any more bodies than was necessary.

In retrospect the name that ended up catching his attention was more than a little cliché, and terribly obvious, but he couldn't help himself. There was something about making it easy, putting all the road signs up, and still watching people fall prey to the darkness that made him giddy with delight. He ran his fingers over the name on the door, feeling the raised texture against his skin, and smiled.

“Black” he whispered to himself, and chuckled before knocking.

When the creature saw the man that opened the door, he frowned. The guy looked sick. He was pale and skinny, deep bags under his eyes and messy greasy hair that hung lifeless in his face. This was not going to be a very satisfying meal. It wasn't just the thinness of the man that bothered the creature either, (and he was _thin_ ; a skeleton in a leather bag thin) it was the weakness of the sorry looking human. He didn't look like he would be able to put up much of a fight, if any, and that was half the fun of the hunt. Watching his prey claw and bite back at him with furry in their eyes, knowing there was no hope but refusing to go down without a proper struggle. That anger, that sheer will to survive, it added something to the flavor. It was like a spice that soaked deep into the meat and blood that danced on the creature's tongue. The harder they fought, the sweeter they tasted. The sorry specimen starring up at him now, through thick rimmed glasses, looked as though he'd faint if the creature so much as said 'boo'. The creature sighed heavily, resigned to his miserable meal, and with both hands shoved the man backwards into his apartment.

Much as he has suspected, there had been little struggle. A few tugs and pulls at his shirt and a few muffled cries before the creature's firm grip against his wind pipe finally silenced the tiny man once an for all. He could have dragged it out, maybe tied his wrists together and hung him from the ceiling while he slowly peeled little pieces of meat off of him at a time, and slurped them down like noodles, but he had bigger things on his mind and there would be plenty of time for slow (and fattier) meals later. Instead, he grabbed a large knife from the kitchen of the little studio and cut the body into nice cutlets. He set aside a single leg to snack on, and packed the rest in cellophane and placed them in the freezer; after he had disposed of a depressing amount of 'chunky monkey' ice cream to make room.

Once his leftovers were taken care of, the creature set about searching the dwelling for anything useful. He took occasional nibbles from the recently deceased tenant's leg as he meandered about the large room. It wasn't much to look at really; a small futon, that was probably still leftover from the guy's college days, sat against the west wall with a cheap 'build-it-yourself' coffee table in front of it. The east wall had a television mounted to it, a modestly large one too that had no doubt cost man a month's wages. Under it, on a little shelf sat a small laptop. The creature raised his eyebrows in interest as he picked it up; at least now he could do a little research. He sat down on the futon with the computer in his lap and slowly opened it up. He rolled his eyes when he saw the little sticky note with the password stuck to the inside of the screen. Seriously? He had spent centuries locked away on Pandora, and even he had better sense than that.

Once he was logged in, it only took him a few moments to navigate the ECHOnet. He learned that the guy he was currently chowing down on, and whose identity he was planning on stealing, was a low level data processor working for Hyperion. His full name was Mervin Ian Black. He was defiantly dropping that first name when he introduced himself at parties...or meetings...or to _anyone_. A little more research told him all about Hyperion, and more importantly, about it's current CEO. His name was Handsome Jack; which the creature had rolled his eyes at because, who actually calls themselves that? He was apparently as deadly as he was intelligent. He had killed the former CEO and assumed his place, and under his control Hyperion rose to heights his predecessor had probably never even dreamed of. His subordinates looked to Jack with a mixture of awe and fear, and no one dared to cross him. It was hard to get any real back story on the guy outside of that though, most of the stories and articles found on the ECHOnet were clearly propaganda pieces, or the crazy gushy ramblings of a Handsome Jack super fan. One thing did catch the creature's eye though, an advert for a job opening in the Hyperion Corporation as a PR manager and personal assistant to the man himself. Apparently interviews would be held latter this week, although they were no longer accepting applications. That wouldn't be a problem though, not with his abilities.

The creature smiled to himself, liking the idea that was forming in his head more and more. He leaned back on the futon as he worked out the details, catching a glimpse of himself in a full length mirror on the wall to his right. He frowned slightly, and picked at his tattered and stained clothing. If we was going to make this work, he would definitely need some clothes that didn't have brain matter mushed into the fabric. He turned back to the laptop, pulling up a site that claimed to sell 'the latest in Hyperion fashion' and ordered a few items using the credit card he had found in Mervin's wallet earlier. There wasn't much he could afford, the man's limit was disappointingly low, but at least now he would look respectable when out in public. Satisfied with his wardrobe purchase, the creature flipped back to the Hyperion site, a large image of Handsome Jack's face sporting a smug grin at the top. The creature poked a long finger at the image's nose and smirked.

“You'll do nicely, Jackie boy.” he said to himself out load, a darkness to the laughter in his voice. “You'll do nicely.”

 


	3. Rhys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His day doesn't start out the best, a hangover and minor torment from his (annoying, stupid, ugly) rival, and to top it off he is going to be late for his big presentation. Oh well, at least he made a new friend. Right?

The screech of his alarm sent a sharp pang coursing through Rhys' head as it pulled him from a dreamless sleep. He groaned against his pillow and threw an arm out to lazily slap the snooze button. He pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes only half opening, and rubbed tiredly at his face. Everything hurt. His head was throbbing, his throat was dry and all his limbs felt like jelly, even the mechanical one. Why oh why did he let Vaughn talk him into going to that club last night? Rhys grunted at the effort it took to force himself into a sitting position on the bed and glanced over at his alarm clock.

“Shit!” He cursed to himself as he realized he only had twenty minutes to get to the office. He must have hit the snooze button more times than he remembered in his hungover stupor. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” He flung the blankets off his legs and scrambled to the edge of the bed, practically leaping off of it; which might have saved him a few precious seconds if his legs hadn't gotten tangled in the sheets and he hadn't fallen face first onto the floor.

“Well that was dignified.” he said to the carpet. “Great way to start the day, Rhys.” He pulled himself to his feet carefully and silently cursed his long legs. Once he was no longer up close and intimate with his bedroom rug, Rhys moved quickly to the bathroom. He had pondered forgoing the shower to save himself a few extra minutes, but then he caught a whiff of the stench of cheap tequila and dance sweat that was radiating off of him, and nearly gagged.

Once the hot water hit his back he instantly felt better and all the grime and stank from the _'I finally finished that presentation I had been slaving over for that last three weeks'_ celebration came peeling off. He could have stayed there in his little liquid cocoon for the rest of the morning, but he had a busy, and and what he hoped would prove to be rewarding, day ahead of him. The presentation Henderson had asked him to work on, the one he was out celebrating the completion of last night, was due today and Rhys was hopeful that this would be final piece that would secure him that promotion he was waiting on. He was really getting sick of data-mining; not that Rhys hated his job exactly, he had worked hard to get to where he was after all, but this was only ever meant to be a stepping stone. He had is eyes on a much larger prize.

A poster of that prize hung directly above his dresser next to the mirror he was currently straightening his tie in. It was a propaganda poster, given to all Hyperion employees at some point in their career, of Handsome Jack smiling and winking, throwing up a pair of finger guns at the viewer on a bright yellow background with the words, “Anything's Possible” in big bold letters underneath. It was terribly cheesy and, if asked, Rhys would claim he only kept it ironically, but the truth was Jack was kinda his hero. Looking at that poster always put a smile on his face, it was his motivation to push through even when things got really tough. There had been more than one occasion when he had come home from an exceptionally shit-tasic day and flopped down on his bed ready to throw in the towel only to glance over at that silly poster and Handsome Jack's exaggerated and overly enthusiastic grin and find his strength renewed. Someday it would be his face on those posters, smiling down on the rest of Helios and inspiring the next generation of Hyperion employees.

“Rhys? Rhys?” A familiar voice disrupted his day dreaming. “Helllloooo, earth to Rhys. You there, bro?

“Vaughn? Yeah, I'm here. What's up?” Rhys answered the comm, not sure how long his friend had been trying to reach him while he was spaced out.

“Just making sure you're awake and functional.” He voice was peppy and light, clearly he had not been nearly as effected by the rounds of shots from last night.

“Well, I'm awake at least.” Rhys replied.

“Hah, yeah you got pretty out of hand last night. I'm surprised you didn't wake up next to your toilet this morning.”

Rhys snorted. “Please, I can handle my booze a little better than that.”

 

“Uh-huh, tell that to Yvette's shoes.” Vaughn was laughing at him now. “You know you're gonna have to pay her back for that right? Like a month's worth of lunches at least.”

Shit, Rhys had forgotten about that. She had been kind enough to walk him to his apartment and, in his extremely inebriated state, he turned to say good night but all that left his mouth was vomit. Right on to her shoes. He couldn't remember much after that. He didn't even know if he had apologized to her. “Dammit.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'll have to send her flowers, or chocolates or something.”

“Ah, I'm sure she'll forgive you, bro. She knows you were out of it.” Vaughn tried to reassure him.

“Yeah, it's not forgiveness I'm worried about so much at the mocking and the teasing.” Rhys hoped if he was just super nice to her, she'd feel too guilty and just drop it. That wasn't likely though, he was probably going to be hearing about this for the rest year.

“Well don't expect any sympathy from me, bro. As the one who is usually on the receiving end of mockery, it's kinda refreshing to watch someone else suffer,” his friend teased through the comm.

“Hey, careful there you're starting to sound like an exec, and I don't need any more competition.”

Vaughn snorted. “Not likely, you're the one with the talent for this stuff. I'm just going to stick to my plan of shamelessly riding your coat tails.” he mused. “At least that way I can always let go when you mess things up.”

“See, that's what I love about you, Vaughn. Your endless confidence in me.” Rhys replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. His friend laughed in response.

“Yeah, yeah. All kidding aside though, Rhys, you got this. You know that.”

“Yep, just like I know you'll be there to sweep up the pieces when I inevitably crash and burn.”

The two friends fished up their conversation just as Rhys entered the office, he said his goodbyes and took a seat at this desk. He took a deep satisfying breath, finding he was actually excited for the day ahead.

“You look like shit, Rhys.”

Dammit. At least he _had_ been excited for the day, until Vasquez decided to show is ugly face. His stupid, ugly face.

“What do you want, Hugo.” Rhys didn't even bother to turn around, not wishing to make eye contact with a demon this early in the day.

“Just came by to see how that presentation is coming along.” Hugo took a sip of his coffee between sentences, and Rhys could _feel_ the smug expression on his face. “You know it's due today, right? Like in the next two hours?”

Rhys finally did turn around, fixing a glare at his rival. “Yes, Hugo, I am aware of when MY presentation is due.”

Hugo smiled down at Rhys. “Oh good, because you know...I was worried you were too busy getting drunk and vomiting on ladies' shoes to get it finished.” His smile widened at the look of horror on Rhys's face. Satisfied that he had sufficiently humiliated Rhys for the morning, we sauntered back to his desk smugly sipping his coffee with a pleased expression on his face.

Rhys gritted his teeth. How had _Ass_ quez even heard about that? He was going to have a long talk with Yvette when he got the chance. He spun back around in his chair and glared at his blank computer screen. However much he hated Hugo, he was right about one thing: that presentation was due in a few hours and Rhys needed to make sure he was prepared. With a resigned sigh, he turned on the monitor and began reviewing his work and prepping his dialogue.

Things went a little smoother after his unfortunate encounter with his co-worker, slash rival, slash arch nemesis, and Rhys was actually able to get a lot of work done. He multi-tasked; using his computer and ECHOeye simultaneously to plow through what would have taken anyone else twice as long to finish. The cybernetics had cost him a pretty penny, all of his quarterly bonus actually, but it had been well worth it. If you wanted to get ahead in Hyperion, it wasn't enough to be a good worker – you needed an _edge_. People like Hugo used manipulation and, not always empty, threats to push themselves up the company ladder, but Rhys wasn't really that kind of guy. He had too much of a conscience to bully people like that, and even if he had tried he had the worst poker face. He had a bad habit of laughing whenever he was nervous, and threats don't really sound all that threatening when they are accompanied by girlish giggling and profuse forehead sweat. The upgrades he got were the compromise. If he couldn't strong arm his way to the top, he could at least make himself absolutely indispensable.

Rhys had fallen into an easy rhythm by the time he noticed a flashing light in the corner of his ECHOeye. He clicked it open and was met with a reminder for his presentation, THAT HAD APPARENTLY BEEN BLINKING FOR TEN MINUTES! OH MY GOD!

“Shit!” Rhys frantically grabbed his papers and other needed materials for the presentation from his desk. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” He really didn't need to be late, not for this. As he was rushing out of the office he heard Vasquez calling after him.

“Don't you have somewhere to be, Rhys?” he was chuckling as he watched Rhys rushing in his direction.

“Fuck off, Hugo!” Rhys called over his shoulder to his rival as he whizzed past, he didn't have time for that jackass and his annoying, stupid, ugly face right now.

He rushed through the halls of Hyperion towards the conference room, keeping a careful eye on the time as he did. He was definitely going to be late...unless... Rhys quickly activated his ECHOeye and brought up a map of Helios, specifically the section he was in. He requested the quickest route to his destination and in a few seconds one was displayed in yellow before him.

“Ah-hah!” he cheered to himself. This would shave off just enough time for him to make it to the presentation on time. All he had to do was fallow this corridor a few more feet, then turn left and... smack directly into something solid.

Papers exploded into the air as Rhys collided with this unexpected object and landed with a thud right on his ass. He sucked in air through his teeth at the pain and groaned out loud at the scattered papers that were going to take him forever to put back in order. What the hell had he even run into?

“Are you okay there, pal?” A smooth voice called out from above him. Rhys looked up and saw a tall, lean man with shaggy black hair and blue eyes smiling down at him.

“I, uh...” Rhys stammered incoherently. _'Smooth, Rhys, real smooth.'_ he scolded himself internally.

“Want some help?” The stranger held out a hand, which Rhys took and together they got him on his feet. After picking himself off the floor for the second time today, Rhys huffed in frustration and began the arduous process of picking up his paper work. He was surprised to find the stranger helping, picking up pages and putting them back into their original sequence. He didn't think there were any people that friendly on Helios, outside of himself and Vaughn of course. Once the mess had been cleaned and his presentation paperwork neatly stacked, Rhys turned to the stranger and extend his hand.

“Hey, thanks man.” He offered. The stranger took his hand readily and shook it.

“No problem, pal!” the man smiled wide. Really wide. It made Rhys a bit nervous, actually.

“Uh, I don't think I've seen you around here before? Are you new?” He asked.

“I am actually. Just arrived last night.” He locked eyes with Rhys, which made him oddly calm.

“Oh, well I'm Rhys.” he was suddenly introducing himself. Why? Didn't he have somewhere to be?

“Nice to meet you, Rhys.” He gripped Rhys' hand a bit tighter. “I'm Ian. Ian Black.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, another day another chapter. Rhys is just kinda a vortex for trouble, isn't he? Next chapter, we'll see what everyone's favorite CEO has been up to...


	4. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief glimpse into the morning routine of Handsome Jack - it's not really as glamorous as those super fans would have you believe. Jack also conducts some interviews...or tries to...they're just so boooorrrrring and the ECHOnet has an endless supply of cat videos...soooo....

Jack didn't bother even setting an alarm anymore. There wasn't much of a point anyway; it's not like he had anyone to report to, and even if he did show up late for a meeting no one would dare mention it for fear of being shot or shoved out an air lock. Jack loved shoving assholes out of airlocks; it was his favorite form of asshole elimination, next to explosions.

So when Jack rolled over in his king sized, and oh so comfy, bed and peered over at the clock on the nightstand he wasn't really that surprised to find he had over slept. Again. He released a defeated sigh, this was happening a lot lately and it was getting harder and harder for him to find the energy to extract himself from the comfort of his ludicrously high thread count sheets. He stretched his back and let out and yawn, that bordered on a roar, as he managed to pry himself from the warmth of his nest. He staggered half awake to his bathroom, nearly tripping over one of the many random articles of clothing scattered on the floor. Flipping on the light, he took a look at himself in the mirror; he kinda looked like shit. His hair was an absolute disaster, sticking up in all different directions as if it was trying to escape his head, and if it hadn't been for the mask grafted firmly to his face, he was sure he would have bags under his eyes. Jack took a deep breath and began the long process of putting his features back in order.

Appearances meant a lot at Hyperion especially when you were the CEO, and insisted everyone call you 'Handsome' as part of your formal title. This meant that Jack stuck to a very strict beauty regimen; not that he would ever refer to it as such in public, or you know... _ever_. His teeth had to be sparking white, his skin clear and free of blemishes or grime, and his hair had to be perfectly blown back with the signature gray streak at a near exact 45 degrees from the middle of his forehead.

His clothes mattered too, not that anyone who set foot in his penthouse would be able to tell with the way they were haphazardly thrown around the entirety of his dwelling. Not even Jack knew exactly which items were clean and which were dirty. Of course he had interviews to conduct today, so it was important his outfit struck a sense of awe and fear into his subordinates and not a sense of B.O. and the Chinese food he had for dinner last week. He walked into his living room and spotted a laundry basket with fresh clothes piled in it, although he couldn't actually remember the last time he did laundry. He picked out a pair of jeans, sports jacket and bright yellow Hyperion tee-shirt – not the swankiest clothing he owned, but good enough for the losers he'd be interviewing today.

After having dressed, Jack made his way to the kitchen for a little breakfast before heading to the office. He was already late, so something quick would have to do. He opened the fridge and was nearly knocked on his ass by the powerful stench that struck him.

“Uhg, what the hell died in here?” He pinched his nose as he tried to search for a quick snack, he'd have to deal with whatever was rotting in his fridge later. Unfortunately, there wasn't much in his fridge by way of nutrition. All he found was a carton of expired milk, half an onion and most of a six pack. While the idea of showing up to his interviews drunk off his ass held a certain appeal, he really did need that position filled so it was probably best to arrive sober. He sighed and closed the door; oh well, he could always grab something from a shop on the way in or have his secretary make a coffee and doughnut run. He turned around and leaned on the counter, overlooking his domain.

“This place, “ he said with a hint of disgust in his voice, “is a freaking mess.” That had been a tremendous understatement, of course. There were clothes and dirty towels covering more of the floor than the carpet, the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes that wouldn't fit in the already full dishwasher, used soda cans and take out containers littered his counters and tables, and absolutely everything in the place was covered in a fine layer of sticky dust. It was pretty fuckin' gross, actually.

In the past, Jack had a team of robots and humans to clean up after him and stock his fridge with delicious food stuffs, but after the incident on Pandora with those scumbag vault hunters and the betrayal of his...of _her._..Jack had fired pretty much everyone that worked directly for him. Especially those that worked in his personal space. He had to allow his office to be scrubbed and cleaned daily, it was basically his throne room; the place where he met his subjects and carried out his sentences, but his penthouse was part of his personal bubble and the list of people he trusted with his personal shit was exactly zero. He didn't want to let anyone anywhere near his space, but he was so damn busy with running pretty much everything that he had no time for things like laundry, or grocery shopping, or dusting, or whatever other domestic B.S. people who weren't billionaire CEO's did with their non-working hours.

That was why he was holding these interviews; he needed someone who could take some of the workload off of him so he could deal with the rest of his rapidly spiraling out of control life. The problem was that all the people he had interviewed so far were complete idiots. None of them even came close to Jack's own intelligence, or carried an ounce of his wit. He needed someone who could keep up with him, who wouldn't ask him a million annoying questions or stutter with nerves every time they spoke. They should be quick, creative, and ambitious, although not too ambitious; they needed to remember who was in charge after all. Basically Jack needed two of himself, but until the R&D department perfected that technology, he was stuck conducting stupid interviews.

Once Jack stepped outside the doors to his penthouse, he shoved all the bullshit going on in his head aside. He was Handsome Jack, after all, the fearless leader of Hyperion, the king of Helios, the God. Damned. Hero. He had to appear perfect for his subjects, a beacon of hope and a symbol of aspiration. They all looked up to him, the mindless little drones, and it was his duty to be a good role model, even if none of them would ever even come close to his level of awesomeness.

Out of his cave, and on the prowl to his office, Jack felt his old confidence coming back to him. Work did that, it allowed him to forget all the crap he had been through and focus on the future he had planned. Starting with the complete tear down and rebuild of the most annoying little planet he had ever had the displeasure of setting foot on. Wiping the face of Pandora clean of murderous bandits always put Jack in a good mood. Maybe he'd fire a few moonshots into some stupid bandits' faces this morning, get himself pumped for those interviews.

The lobby of his office was swarming with low level execs in cheap suits, each waiting for their chance to speak with the revered CEO. He wasn't ready for this yet, he needed food in his stomach and something with an outrageous amount of caffeine before he could even begin to deal with this bullshit.

“Alright, kiddos, I know you're all eager for you turn with the Big Guy.” He announced as he walked through the lobby. “But if any of you so much as make eye contact with me before I've had my morning coffee, I will strangle you with your own ugly tie.” He smiled through the threat, his tone playful but somehow still sinister.

Everyone in the room immediately averted their eyes, some staring at the floor or walls while others attempted to appear amused at their own bellybuttons. Jack approached a man who had been waiting nearly at the doors to his office. He grabbed him by the shoulder, getting in nice and close, and started straightening the man's tie. “You got that, pumkin?” Jack smirked as the poor guy desperately tried to look anywhere other than Jack's face, which he had made as difficult as possible by getting as close as he could with out it being weird.

“Y-yes, Handsome Jack, sir.” The man stuttered, sweat trickling down his face.

“Atta boy, champ.” Jack patted the man on back as he pulled away, snickering to himself as he strode into his office.

 

After a wonderfully strong cup of coffee and a delightful jelly filled pastry, Jack had finally felt ready to start the interviews. He was actually a little proud of himself for conducting the first five or so rather professionally; actually listening to the employees sitting before him and genuinely considering their candidacy, but after a while he got bored with the whole process and began playing games with the interviewees to keep himself amused. Not that they knew they were playing, of course. If someone was bald, he'd shoot them, if they were wearing a stupid looking tie, he'd have them thrown out an air lock, and if they came in wearing the same yellow Hyperion shirt as him? He'd drop them down his 'Jack Hole'. It was kinda like a drinking game, but with jackasses instead of a movie and murder instead of booze.

Around noon, even the novelty of eliminating the morons revolving through his office had worn off and Jack had resorted to watching cat videos on the ECHOnet while muttering “mmm hmm” every so often as if paying attention to what the person sitting across from him was saying. Not his finest moment as CEO, but these interviews really were a complete waste of time. He was never going to find anyone who could possibly live up to his standards, even if someone came close he'd probably end up shooting them sooner or later and then he'd have to go through this hell all over again.

“...and your image, sir, it could probably use a bit of a face lift.” Jack's ears perked up at the words coming from a scrawny, nervous looking man sitting opposite him. Face lift? Was that meant as some kind of a dig? Or was this guy that frikkin' stupid?

'Uh, huh...” Jack pursed his lips and listed to the man, whose name was apparently James if the obnoxious sticker on his suit jacket was to be believed.

“Yes, sir. I think that it might be, uh, that is it might be time for a change. Take things in a new direction.” James fumbled with his words, completely unaware of how his seat was perfectly positioned over the trap door.

“Really. You think so.” Jack's voice was dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, but the little guy just didn't seem to pick up on it. It was sad really.

“Yes, I am thinking maybe something more...family friendly?” James' voice shook slightly as he made his proposal.

Jack snorted. _'Family friendly?'_ he thought to himself. _'This guy can't be fucking serious.'_ This was the problem, none of these guys thought like Jack thought. None of them got it. It was annoying how much he wished there was someone, _anyone,_ on this fucking station he could relate to. Jack flopped back in his chair, his index finger poised over the button that would send this jerk to his slicey-dicey doom, when he realized someone else had just entered his office. Uninvited.

The guy who walked in was tall and lean, had dark black hair and eerily pale blue eyes. He wasn't dressed like someone going to an interview either, but more like someone going to the bar after a long work week. He had on big black boots and skin tight black pants with numerous buckles and straps that held absolutely no purpose other than to draw attention. His white button down shirt wasn't even tucked in, the first three buttons of it were undone and his tie hung loosely around the collar. He did have on a sweet long black coat though, the kind that flapped out behind you as you walked, all super hero like. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows exposing a few black tribal tattoos. Topping off the ensemble was a pair of sunglasses positioned atop the guys head.

Jack rolled his eyes, who needed sunglasses on a space station? He spotted a similar name tag as James' on the lapel of the guy's coat with the name “Ian” written on it.

_'Well, Ian,'_ Jack thought as he reached for his pistol. _'Guess I'm gunna have to teach you some manners.'_ Just as he was about to paint the walls of his office with the guy's brains, Ian spoke.

“Family friendly?” he smirked, and cocked his head to the side as he sized up James. “Are you fucking serious?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is....kinda a hot mess. Also super grumpy with out his coffee. And who has just half an onion in their fridge? Do some grocery shopping dude. Feed yo self.
> 
> Next chapter we'll see how the rest of James' (Ian's) Interview goes.


End file.
